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   Chapter 12 11.

On Her Knees By Chyna McCartney Characters: 19192

Updated: 2018-02-09 11:25

I stepped outside of the club into the night air, clutching onto the blue prints as I headed for the familiar black jeep.

Berthold, held the door to the backseat open for me, staring at me with confusion at the enormous grin on my face.

"What's with you brother?" he asked, when he had climbed into the driver's seat. The engine roared to life and we were soon turning onto the busy freeway.

"She got this for me." I tossed the rolled parchment into the passenger's seat next to him. "The plans for the entire building."

"How?" he asked, glancing over at the object in question.

I found myself smiling at her brilliance. Teryn was truly a different kind of creature--absolutely nothing like the other members of her species whom I had encountered. She did not have a single ounce of fear in her entire being; something some might consider a lack of self- preservation. No rational human would risk themselves at the hands of beings exponentially more powerful than themselves, no matter how enticing the reward might be. But she seemed to have made up her mind to resist her captors long before I even made my offer to her.

I still marveled that she had managed to be so productive in such a short period of time. "She asked for them. Had a very convincing excuse as to why she needed them too."

Nodding his head in approval, he admitted"She's good."

"Too good..." In all truth, I can not recall having ever been so curious about another person before. Teryn was a goddess. Eyes the color of pools of molten gold and silky black curls. Her smooth skin seemed to glow-- as if the sun went to rest just beneath her skin every evening after it set. I could feel her sincerity; her brutal honesty whenever she spoke or moved or cast those golden eyes my way.

I felt myself bending to her will whenever she looked to me; which was why she had gotten me to agree to try and get her friend out.

"How did you know?" His question disrupted the hush inside the vehicle.

"How did I know what?"

"That she was the one." he replied. Our eyes met briefly in the rearview mirror.

"There is no criteria for informants in this kind of situation, Bertold. I just picked her out; a completely random selection." I knew that I was telling a lie with that part. From the moment I laid eyes on that olive toned beauty, my decisions had been at the mercy of the overwhleming attraction I felt toward her.

"But it wasn't random was it?" he continued. "It was no coincidence that she was the one you chose."

"What are you saying, Bertold?"

I knew exactly what he was saying. I was no fool. I knew the signs. Every vampire knew the signs-- if he were a pure blood, he learned to recognize them before he could speak and aside from feeding, that was the first lesson that anyone who had been given the dark gift was taught by the one who made them.

These are the signs of the Beloved; the Dragon's Paramour. The hallmarks of the one whose soul completes your own:

The Call of the Flesh

The Call of the Heart

The Call of the Soul.

Anyone whose mere presence stirred emotions within a vampire in line with any of these categories is that vampire's mate for life-- his or her other half.

I threw off the jacket and undid the cuffs of my dress shirt. My skin would never become hot and clammy but I was suddenly very uncomfortable now. I was uncomfortable here-- uncomfortable because I knew where this conversation was heading.

"You know what this means Giovanni; I know you do. You know what she is to you."

"That's not important, Berthold."

Everything was bathed in silver moonlight. The gloomy, decrepit district of Sangré disappeared around me in a blur of vehicles and apartment buildings. Soon we would be passing through the countryside of Ravoyka and then back to Rudalia.

It was in moments like these that I realized how thin the line between the human race and my kind was. Places like Sangré which were the slums of our society were no more different than the inner cities of the human world. Society was one big ladder with more powerful vampires on top, abusing their rights and denying those below them the freedom to exercise their own.

Everyday I tried to live without allowing my position to consume me. I knew what it was like to be on the bottom of the ladder. I had the privileges of a man on top but I refused to behave like one. My nation and my countrymen deserved better than another sycophantic slave to power at the High Council's table.

Berthold cursed in German under his breath, obviously frustrated with me."How is it not important? I can tell by the way you speak of her, such reverence in your voice when you say her name. I hope you don't go there making a fool of yourself every week. Are you still able to speak in complete, coherent sentences when you're with her, brother?"

I scoffed at his antics. The tires crunched over the gravel of the driveway as we turned onto my property. The taupe brick walls of my large Venetian mansion loomed over head and the vehicle pulled to a stop.

"You're putting far too much emphasis on this. She is a pretty, human girl and her personality is marginally more tolerable than most creatures. That is all. Nothing more." I could feel the familiar pang of uneasiness in my chest; the uncomfortable dread that washed over me when ever I spoke of the matters of the heart. I was not an 'emotional' man. I preferred not to feel things.

Choosing not to wait for the other man, I hoped out the back, and swung open the large double doors to my home. My heels clicked against the polished marble floors and without looking back, I began bounding up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time.

Of course, it was pointless after

res than myself and my mother. It had always been considered impossible for two individuals who were paramours to ever be separated from each other. They thought that perhaps, there were other circumstances involved and that may have been the case but my father never came back. He never gave an explanation and I never met him. I had no proof that he had ever given a damn about my mother and I and that there was somehow some benefit to having a paramour.

I didn't want to take the chance with a soulmate. I didn't want to put myself in a position to live with that same kind of pain if things ended badly.

"You're not usually this thoughtful. I've never heard you say anything so sincere before. To anyone." I say, trying to redirect my thoughts.

Bertold was an excellent swordsman and combat master; his skills in combat on matched by his loyalty but he was utterly clueless when it came down to facing emotional problems. I had not even realized how observant he was where I was concerned.

"Only for you, " he winked and I shook my head at him. "But I mean it regardless. Give this a chance."

On one hand, I was still very apprehensive; wary of all the negative outcomes that I would essentially be allowing to befall me but on the other hand, when I was with her, none of that mattered.

It was just her beautiful face and her bold personality.

"I'll think about it, " I acquiesced with a sigh and stood up from the edge of the bed, walking toward the glass doors that lead out to the balcony with my hands clasped behind my back.

Through the glass, I could faintly see the rose bushes in the garden beneath the balcony, their crimson petals kissed by the silvery light of the moon.

I could see the ghost of her figure, created only by the memories in my mind, walking through the garden and pressing the pads of her fingers against the petals. The beauty of her chocolate brown hair flitting about in the gentle breeze was only contested by the stark green of her eyes.

It did not matter what time of day it was; the garden was her home.

"But you understand Bertold, that all of this has to be put in perspective of what I came to do, " I told him, replaying the memories of my brunette ward walking among the flowers.

Now the memories included another man: a man who was once one of my guards and a good friend. He emerged from the west gate, his black hair braided and falling against the back of his neck.

His lean figure was clad in a black vest and trousers tucked into the tops of his black boots. He strode confidently toward her.

I could not see his face in this memory for his back was turned to me but I didn't need to. I knew that his eyes were nearly the same shade of green as her own and that they were never brighter than when he was looking down at the brunette girl. I knew that there was a smile on his face-- a smile that was only for her.

She embraced him, standing on the tip of her toes and holding him close with an utterly serene look on her face. The man she held, pressed his face to her neck and I watched the slight flush spread across her pale cheeks when he kissed her there.

Pulling away, he held her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers.

"I know." Bertold's voice shattered the memory.

"I promised Christa, even though she was not alive to hear me say it." I heard myself say and my voice sounded flat and empty. "I promised them both."

I saw the two of them in my mind again, completely lost in each other.

They were still here in that garden, even if only in spirit.

Christa and Marcelle

My entire reasoning for wanting to infiltrate that brothel was to get the ammunition I needed to legally avenge their deaths. Those men at that club would pay for the two souls they had snatched away. I would personally see to it.

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